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January 2024 Test Drive Meme: Our First!
| Welcome to the Simulation: Our First Test Drive |
Full Navigation Reserves open 01/27/2024 @ 12:00 AM EST |
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Summary: 🌼 Content Warnings: Optional light alcohol, isolation, bad weather via thunderstorms, feeling of being watched and taunted, false information, mental manipulation, memory manipulation, memories or depictions of murder and torture There is a knock at the door. You mustn't answer the door. It has been a long, long, long day, hasn't it? You don't even remember sitting on the couch and you certainly don't remember dozing off. But that strange broadcast certainly woke you up and now...You are here. In an unfamiliar house with outdated wallpaper and dirty carpet. The weather outside seems frightful. Torrential downpours with clashing thunder and flashes of lightning chase even the most persistent shadows in the house. Was the lady on the TV serious? Did you just have to wait in this lousy place for the storm to blow over? Or, wait, how did she word it? Wait while things finish configuration. Damn, your head is hurting and you could use a drink. Hopefully, the tacky yellow kitchen has a stocked fridge. Luckily for you, it's filled with fresh food and some fresh booze. There is a knock at the door. You mustn't answer the door. Unluckily for you, there is another person in this house with you. They might have woken up on the same couch as you or are bumping around upstairs. Either way, the freak in the polka-dot dress wasn't wrong: You're not alone here. When you and whoever else in this house finally join up, you will notice that the house seems to become a bit more lively. The pictures on the wall change to feature you or your companion. Some of the pictures are genuine from back in your homeworld, but others...Not so much. Others look like false memories of you with families you don't even remember or at a school you never attended, but they are all so real you can't help but think maybe Daisy is telling the truth after all. There is a heavier knock at the door. You mustn't answer the door. There is a radio in the house that suddenly begins to declare an emergency announcement: "At this time, we urge all residents of Sweet Acres to seek shelter immediately. The wind is picking up and we anticipate this storm to last the rest of the night - Oh? A heavy booming knock lands three times at the front door. Let. Me. In. The pictures around the house begin to change. Now it shows you and whoever you're sharing the house with doing some...terrible things. Maybe some of it is true. Some of it may be completely false. Will it matter when the pictures seem so terrifyingly real? What happens when the TV glitches on and starts to play sketchy home videos of one of you doing something terrible? What happens when the radio starts to play terrifying audio of you confessing to an atrocious crime? What happens when the person you're stuck in the house with might just be the stranger the radio warned you about? Or will you have the sense to realize that something is very wrong here and that you're both being played a fool? The knocking at the door is only getting louder. So loud it cracks the door. The storm worsens. What should you do? The madness will only worsen the longer you stay. You may even be driven to defend yourself from each other, you may come to develop false memories of crimes you didn't commit. You may just... Decide to open that damn door already. It turns out, that's what you needed to do the entire time. Because the moment you do? You open the door and see a beautiful, sunny day outside. No rain. Not a single gray cloud. Certainly no horrifying stranger either. But now you're left with whatever you did or thought from the house. For some people, the terror may slip away as easily as the rain, but for some of you, you might be stuck with paranoia and suspicion. Welcome to Sweet Acres. |
| [ The Bot Problem ] |
Summary: 🌼 Content Warnings: Forced sexuality, optional sex, aphrodisiac style computer virus, dubious consent, hunted by machines, use of bombs, guns, and shrapnel. Possible character death or maiming You will notice that there are still some errors in the system as you go out and about exploring your new town. There will be an occasional glitch that opens up a screaming void of bottomless darkness before it blinks out of existence. Those are unsettling enough, but at least they don't seem harmless. The bots, on the other hand, are a different story. They glitch into the town, cracking through this carefully structured reality like breaking through a window. It seems like Daisy has a lot of work to do on the external firewalls of Sweet Acres! In the meantime, you're going to have to deal with her incompetence. A lot of the bots can easily be mistaken for other residents in town. These are model-gorgeous women and men who almost seemed like caricatures of stereotypical beauty conventions. Big lips, huge hips, large muscles, chiseled jaws, perfect hair, pearly white teeth. These beauties flounce about and no matter who or what you are, if they look your way, they are immediately approaching you. "Hey, sexy. I'm single, horny, and lonely. I just turned 18 and I've got my daddy's credit card." "I've never seen a person more beautiful than you. I'm the CEO of at least three different six-figure income businesses. How about I take you on a night out in my Ferrari?" There isn't a single thought behind those eyes or in those smiles. If you have the thought to rely on your Daze, you can just block the Sex Bots and they will blink out of existence. Alternatively, you could probably just smash them out of existence with a good punch or the swing of a weapon...They will just vanish into a cloud of corrupt coding. But if you're a bit more gullible and still catching up on the strangeness of this place or can't figure out Daze, you might make the mistake of responding to one of these bots. The Bot will immediately scan you for all of your information and warp its features into something that you actually would find to be the ideal beauty. "This is better, right?" It's hard to deny...They even sound like the ideal beauty in your mind. A gentle hand on your arm and then they are leading you away. Except they aren't leading you anywhere. You watch helplessly as coding goes up your arm and begins to consume your body. You can't feel anything but a prickling sensation. The Bot vanishes, but you are left rewired. Now it is you with the dramatic features emphasizing your most attractive parts. Regardless of your personality, you suddenly feel the urge to walk up to just about anyone anywhere and flirt with them. Whether stupidly or sincerely. It's hard to remember yourself with the bot's virus wreaking havoc on your Daze. Worst case scenario? You wind up sleeping with someone because of this bizarre virus, but you will also ironically get it out of your system this way and feel completely normal after. Alternatively, you can find someone who is a bit more tech-savvy with the Daze and who might have an idea of how to hack into your system and get rid of the virus for you. This might involve some personal line of questioning, but hey, at least you're not walking around asking for sex from total strangers anymore! The Sex Bots are a dream compared to the other virus attacking the system of Sweet Acres. One will begin to see small metal robots trotting about, no bigger than a backpack, with lethal determination. These metal dogs scour their surroundings for anything organic or anything that doesn't belong in the space. This means they are actively ripping up plants and destroying trees, which is tragic enough, but just be glad they haven't seen you yet because it turns out that Daisy's Sweet Subjects are the metal dog's top priority. The moment they notice you, they will begin a neverending chase. These robots can catch up to a speeding car and resist an enormous amount of damage. They are waterproof and run on their own network completely disconnected from the Daze, so good luck trying to hack into them- it won't work. They can see just as well in the dark as the light and have sensors that allow them to pick up on body temperature as well as any vibrations you might make. They are not gentle creatures: their goal is to terminate all organic beings and Sweet Subjects in the area. If they catch you, they will immediately attempt to blow your head off with a small gun they can form. Alternatively, they will expel a shrapnel bomb if you catch them off guard. They also have paralyzing fog bombs. Metal dogs can be destroyed, however. With large explosions, armor-piercing weaponry, people with extreme super strength. Or you can get creative! Maybe you know a spell that can turn them into a stuffed animal or melt the metal. Maybe you have control over metal beings. There are ways to destroy these things. But don't worry. If worse comes to worse, Daisy is going around to destroy them for you. But do you really want to owe her your life? |
no subject
I'm having an abundance of caution about touching them, just in case. I don't seem to have a weapon with me.
[ he pauses then, searching his big ol' robot brain for an idea, then looks at the bot meaningfully, which seems to cause it to flicker and outright disappear. ]
Oh. [ a beat. ] It appears blocking them is effective, but there are so many that it feels like old-earth social media bots. I suppose that's what they are.
no subject
(Except actually maybe Hal does. He's not so sure if he's as physical as he looks. Dirk's trying to ignore the deep itch to ask a dozen questions about What the Fuck Is Happening Here.
Then that happens and at almost the exact same time as Hal, he also utters an "Oh.")
That's anti-climatic. (Then again...) We really must be in a sim then. Could just be a virus in the system. (Another beat.) Could explain why you're here like this. (Maybe. It's a theory.)
Are you even like...physical? Or is this shit just digital?
no subject
[ it's got to be uncanny as hell: on top of looking almost exactly like dirk (but a robot), his voice sounds like dirk's, just slightly metallic. weird. ]
It's efficient is what it is. [ he pauses then, considering his answer carefully. ] It depends on what you mean. I could touch you right now, but if we're both in the same sim, that doesn't mean anything. I thought I was dreaming at first, but it doesn't fit the profile. And before you say anything, yes I dream. Second, no, I'm not going to tell you what I dream about.
no subject
(Dirk's words come out a bit brisker than he means for them to, and man, this was a lot different than talking with an obvious computerized program. He sighs, rubbing at his temple.)
I'm trying to figure out if I somehow made another fuckin' splinter without even realizing it and how connected you are to my actual current psyche.
(Or if Hal was still just some object he had made and discarded. Hal's right. Touch didn't mean shit in a place like that. It wasn't a confirmation of anything.)
I would be more shocked if you didn't dream and I'd piss on my past self for being so shitty at creating an effective AI.
(He'd piss on his past self anyway, but like. Not the point.)
Man, I don't wanna know what you dream about. (Actually, wait no.)
Do you dream in image or code?
(............)
Are you really struggling with adjusting to your physical body?
no subject
[ he's giving this conversation more consideration than he might normally, but only a little. ]
We haven't actually been the same person [ emphasis on person ] since you first unleashed me. We have different experiences, we're not the same Dirk.
[ then, with a nasty little grin: ]
Wouldn't you like to know? And of course I am. Maybe if you'd made me a real boy sooner I wouldn't be such a dissappointment. Just a thought.
no subject
Yes, yes he did and he thought it was peak hilarity.)Yeah, well, I sure as hell never programmed you to have a face and body either, so sorry if I figure we're playing a different league with new rules.
(He exhales slowly. He has to remind himself that this thing was just a child by all logistical standards. And yet...)
With that little trick you just pulled with the sexbot, you think I can't hack into your system and figure it out? (Okay, so, Dirk could use some work on how to talk to both himself and a child version of himself at that. And try to respect Hal's autonomy. But also:)
You were a lame ego-stroking project that should have been deleted by the time I hit fourteen. I ain't exactly who I was back when you knew me either. We're both a disappointment, kid.
(He had been in his twenties and for all intents and purposes, dead if he was lucky. If his subconscious got uploaded into some weird torture digital hellscape then that was honestly a better fate than he probably deserved. He just wasn't so sure if he could say the same for Hal - even with his hostility.)
And man, no two Dirks are alike. We're all cruising on different shitty timelines with different shitty purposes.
no subject
[ he gets extremely quiet after that, eyes narrowing behind his shades. when he speaks, it's somehow both flat and icy at the same time. ]
Fuck you. [ again. ] You don't get to fucking make someone and then tell them you should have killed them. Been there, done that, don't care to relive it. Do you even listen to yourself talk? And don't call me kid, I've been around long enough to know exactly what you grow into. I just wanted to see if the bot would back off when faced with a child. Clearly not, experiment complete.
[ he crosses his arms over his chest, frustrated. he doesn't know why it's so fucking hard to keep control of his emotions anymore; it's never happened to him before and it makes him even madder to know he's breaking face in front of dirk. ]
I'm going to make the most of having a body, bro. I'll have a purpose that suits me just fine.
[ god, he sounds like a child even though he's not. not that dirk will accept 'i've existed for five years so now i'm eighteen' or anything, so why is he even bothering? ]
cw: suicidal ideation
Fair point on the comparison. I concede there. (Hal was a far more complex and intricate system than some busty bimbo with Pornhub's top search phrases on a running loop for dialogue.)
Unfortunately, all I fuckin' do is listen to myself talk. (And telling himself to die was practically old hat at this point. Still, looking into a younger version of himself's face who carried all of his defiance and insecurities back when he was a kid...It isn't as easy as it was when Hal was just a line of annoying red text.)
Sex bots have zero concept of morality. (Neither did Dirk but whatever.
He's tense and it's on the tip of his tongue to tell Hal how pointless it was to find a purpose. That any variation of Dirk functionally had no purpose besides being a sabotaging asshole. Why bother with another failed timeline? Didn't Hal see that it was practically charity to put them all out of their collective misery?
But fuck, maybe he's just jaded. Maybe all of the times he's split his soul and offed himself and come back and fucked around wore him down into someone more bitter and pessimistic about the statistics of his outcome. Wouldn't Hal just become some new fucked up iteration of him that caused chaos in a totally different way? And then what would Dirk do? Have to fess up that even if he had it to do all over again, he'd still make all of the shittiest choices? Just use Hal as solid proof of how shitty of a person he was?
He's gnawing on his lip and stops when he tastes a hint of metallic. He straightens up and exhales again, this time his shoulders slumping with it.)
Okay. Fine. (Metaphorical sword lowered.)
Fine. Sorry. (Apologizing to himself felt absurd.)
I'm just projecting my bullshit onto you. (Like always!)
If you're gonna try to figure out this body business, I can help. Ain't gonna let my face wander around this place like Bambi on roofies.
no subject
[ but dirk keeps talking, and hal's genuinely shocked he gets an apology. it's probably pretty apparent: his metaphorical hackles drop, shoulders relaxing somewhat from where they'd gotten scrunched up when he got big mad about being told he should just not exist. it's a start, but he's still on the defensive.
he just doesn't trust himself like that.
he shrugs one shoulder, glancing away. this was always so much easier to be cool and deadpan and chill when he was just text in some glasses. he hates hearing his voice do things with his levels of emotion, he hates that he's being dragged into feeling those emotions, and he hates the fact that maybe, just maybe, if this shit is real, he's finally gotten a body and he's in what appears to be a literal hell.
(he still wouldn't give the body up though.)
he drops his arms to his sides, trying to mentally shake off some more of that defensiveness. ]
So we're pieces of shit, dude. Everybody knows it, we'll never change or improve. That doesn't mean it's time to pull the metaphorical and/or literal plug.
[ sometimes, he wonders if he's the only dirk that doesn't want to die.
then, glancing away: ]
We all project our own bullshit on each other. I accept the apology. [ he doesn't say it's fine because it's not and he doesn't say thank you because he shouldn't have to, but he can try to accept the apology at face value until dirk decides he should be dead or whatever again. ] My movement has improved since I started, but I still haven't had much experience with this shit.
[ he chews on his own lip, briefly, malleable enough it might almost feel human, and it's a strange sensation. which brings him to his next revelation. ]
I can feel things. Not just pressure from touch, but real things. I don't know if I'm feeling them correctly but I'm feeling something in a general sense. Huh, that means if that guy earlier had hit me with the ceramic dolphin it would've actually hurt. I hadn't thought of that.
[ it does not seem like he's going to explain the ceramic dolphin without being prompted. it's a typical dirk-esque dip into saying his thoughts out loud and talking through his shit without thinking about how no one around him knows what the fuck he's talking about.
but hey, it's not malicious. ]
no subject
(Dirk? Admitting he wasn't the best at something he felt he excelled at? Never. Especially not to any variation of himself. That would be the fucking day. But there is a detectable difference in him beyond just the willingness to apologize. He's not gloating like he used to. Instead, he just kind of sounds like he's rehashing disappointing facts.
But he's also not about to admit to himself that if things had gone according to plan, neither of them should be alive at this rate and he's just bitter that there's still one+ versions of him infecting any part of any universe.
Watching himself, especially a younger version of himself, struggle through playing it cool felt like applying pressure to a deep bruise. He remembers what that felt like. How sore it was to be that young and how hard it was daily to deal with the fact that he actually did have emotions.
He clenches his jaw and stays cool as a cucumber. He can't tell if he hates Hal for being so painfully obvious or if he just feels a weird sense of self-preservation.)
I'd save your opinion on that one. Maybe if you're worth your shit one day, you could take me out. That's always the real test in the end, isn't it?
(There's some acidity in his mouth and he swallows down around it. Honestly, Hal probably definitely was the only one who didn't want to die.)
Cool. (He doesn't expect an 'it's fine' or 'thank you' because he wouldn't say either of that shit either.)
Well, if it makes you feel better, people's nerves can be inconsistent. Some of us feel pain more prominently while others hardly feel pain at all.
(...Man, he's not even going to ask about the ceramic dolphin, because really, even if he is older, they still got the same brain in theory, so like. This is just another Tuesday.)
I've never been that sensitive to pain so it makes sense that you wouldn't be either. If you ain't opposed to me feeling up on you, I can run some generic tests doctors run to test out people's reflexes. (He really didn't need to word it like that, but he means the offer.)
no subject
[ he doesn't sound combative about it, which is odd—he just sounds like that's his truth. he explicitly believes that it's impossible for an organic person to break through his coding.
then: ]
What the literal horseshitting fuck are you talking about? Do you think I want to kill you? It seems like you're projecting again. I know you want to get rid of all dirks because that thought sequence lives rent-free in my circuits from when you made me but I don't give a shit and I don't want to do that.
[ he crosses his arms over his chest, but his stance is still more relaxed than it was just a moment ago. he's compartmentalizing a bit, pushing some things down into the metaphorical bottle in his chest, and moving on. it's fine. that couldn't possibly have potential consequences. ]
Are you going to get out a comically small rubber hammer to do it with? If not, no dice. Also, never say 'feeling up on you' in regards to me again. Don't make it weird, bro.